Then I got a call from Alan Dershowitz, the de facto president of secular Jewish America and, as luck would have it, one of Charles’s old bosses. Charles was an instigator, a provoker, Dershowitz said, but not an anti-Semite—far from it. Without seeking recognition, Charles was a donor to the Simon Wiesenthal Center, which hunts down Nazis and brings them to justice. He had invested in the dreams and inventions of diverse companies, including many led by Jews and immigrants. As a test of its censorship mores, he had posted absurd claims on Reddit. It was dumb, but should it cancel every past or future contribution he could make? Of course not.
I’ve needed second chances in life—and third and fourth chances in relationships. In the church where I worship, we pray for forgiveness and acknowledge our wretched flaws. I’ve begged at the altar for the absolution of mine. Someone died for our sins on Earth. At least some of them should be forgiven online.
When I told Jake Tapper live on CNN that Charles Johnson wasn’t a Holocaust denier—that many prominent members of the Jewish community had assured me as much—some recoiled, but many learned I was right. My public service is enhanced because people like Charles, Darren Beattie, and Devin Murphy give me the best they have all the time, often without asking for anything other than that I be at my best. And I can look past the worst some have (falsely or fairly) been accused of doing. I know no one bats a thousand. I sure don’t.
But the president did call me Mickey Mantle one time. Like Mantle, I’d rather be a legend than a never-was. Will there be strikeouts? You betcha. But anyone who has never gotten up to the plate isn’t fit to judge the game, not from the bleachers.
The nerds are strange, sure, but I love them, and they love me. I admire what they can contribute despite their oddities. As I put it to Bill Maher when he falsely claimed I pick on nerds: I am the nerd! Not a whole lot of bullies were on the high school debate team, nor won the state’s award for top nerd. I’ve done my time in debate camp and know of what I speak. Boring men don’t make history. Most don’t even make the debate team.
The measure of a great man is who he picks up, not who he pushes down. It takes more than fortitude. It takes character to remember the forgotten man and make him feel seen and to see more in himself. And it is my experience that the forgotten man or the canceled man will never disappoint you when you save him from drowning and that he will be the first to swim out into uncharted waters to rescue others when you ask him.
Any clown with social media followers and moral self-laudation can cancel someone. I believe in restoring opportunity and calling people to the best versions of themselves, not judging them at their worst. The only problematic people are the ones who don’t seek to be better tomorrow.
No, I don’t cancel. I uncancel. And I’m a better public servant because of it. No one is remembered for what he got, only for what he gave. So, let he who is without sin cast the first tweet. The rest of us are busy working together to make our union just a little bit more perfect, despite our imperfections.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Air Force One: Of Victories and Quarantines
March 9, 2020
Air Force One. Departing Orlando Sanford International Airport.
“Wrap Gaetz in cellophane!”
“Not necessary. I’ll jump off with or without the parachute!” I shouted to the half-joking president just as the most famous airplane in the world was entering the clouds in ascent.
I was already being whisked past the conference room hosting my leather chair and personalized name card. Presidential Personnel Office Director and Trump buddy Johnny McEntee wasn’t taking me to my seat. He was taking me to quarantine.
I wasn’t even supposed to be on the plane. Earlier that day, I had attended a Trump 2020 fundraiser at the home of Bob and Diane Dello Russo. The Trump movement is so fun in part because it brings out such fun people. I would have loved to sip champagne with my best friends, all-around Orlando A-listers Chris and Rebekah Dorworth. They always draw a crowd of Florida’s most interesting political minds and characters—but there was work to do.
Conducting the president’s politics is joyous and engaging and busy. Supporters ranged from bundlers who had raised hundreds of thousands of dollars to important political figures representing the best of the Trump movement.
Chris Anderson served our nation in uniform in Afghanistan. He’s never shaken the call to public service, having protected our communities as a law enforcement officer, and is now trusted as Seminole County’s first-ever African American supervisor of elections. He and his wife, Ebony, a Democrat, weren’t political for most of their lives but now represent how inspiring the bold leadership of President Trump can be to a wide cross-section of patriots.
Trump has the strongest work ethic of any man I’ve ever met—and he respects those on his team willing to put in the hours and the handshakes like he does. I took hundreds of pictures and gave at least as many hugs. In the Sunshine State, I’ve been on quite the political winning streak. I was a top ally of the president and of Governor Ron DeSantis, having worked like the
